


Game Night

by Rochelle_Rochelle



Category: Elementary
Genre: Chess, F/M, Joanlock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 22:00:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3912178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochelle_Rochelle/pseuds/Rochelle_Rochelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do consulting detectives do for fun? <br/>Assumes pre-existing joanlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Game Night

The floorboard creaked beneath his foot. He froze, stood and listened. Had she heard it? .... Not a sound.... His hearing was acute, he should be hearing something ... anything ... the lack of noise put him on high alert. 

Sherlock peeked around the bathroom's doorframe and down the hallway. All clear. He moved quickly, treading lightly towards the upbound stairs.

"Ah ha!" Watson's excited exclamation as she jumped up from where she'd been laying on the risers made him recoil backwards and make a beeline down the hall. He took the downward stairs at a gallop but his partner was closing in on him fast. As he reached the first floor landing, she leapt over the last two steps, hands outstretched, and landed on top of him.

"Got you! Got you! Got you!" Joan singsonged as they both fell over.

"I don't think that was fair ... How did you get upstairs without me seeing?" Sherlock had rolled over flat on his back with Joan stretched out on top of him. 

"Admit it. I'm better at this than you are." Her face hovered over his. 

He smiled at her. "Alright... You win." He pushed her hair back off her face, tucking a strand behind her ear. His other hand moved down and then slowly back up her back. Joan dipped her head and kissed his nose.

A thought occurred to her, "You're not losing on purpose are you?" Her look grew serious as she pondered the possibility.

Sherlock's hand caressed the back of her head and gently brought it back down towards him, "Don't be silly Watson. I lose for no man ... or woman." His other hand made its way all the way down her back and under the border of her pants, gripping her bottom tightly and pushing her closer to him. Sherlock kissed her neck and then growled in her ear, "What would you like this time ..." He proceeded to whisper a laundry list of erotic possibilities, things he could do for and to her...

Between the play of his hands on her and the images his words were creating for her, Joan was melting into him. He continued, "Number seventeen, of course we just did earlier, but I'm willing to do again ... Maybe employing a fancy dismount this time," he teased and lightly bit at her ear.

Joan started giggling at the thought which just made her all the more attractive to Sherlock. He rolled them so he lay on top of her. "Number eighteen as you may recall requires a whisk and heavy cream, both of which I believe we have ..." 

The giggles subsided and she smiled into his big grey blue eyes. Her hands found the waist of his sweat pants and started pulling them down. "How about we go with the basics, number seven ..." She grabbed at him much as he had done to her. "No props needed for that ... Just a little stamina...."

"That I have right here ..." he murmured as his lips sought hers ....

The doorbell made them both jump and pull apart. Sherlock looked at her with a disappointed grimace.

Joan started to sit up, "It could be important ... Plus all the lights are on ..."

Sherlock sat back on his knees, "They could have called ..." The doorbell rang again. 

"I suppose the quicker we answer, the quicker we can get rid of them..." Sherlock helped her up. 

The door to the brownstone opened and Marcus was faced with a bare chested and barefoot Sherlock sullenly staring him down. He'd never seen Sherlock in such "casual" attire. Behind Sherlock stood Joan in a black spaghetti strapped top and Capri shorts, also barefooted. Marcus looked from one to the other, "Did I come at a bad time?"

Joan jumped in, afraid of what Sherlock's blunt answer might be. "No, not at all. Come on in."

Marcus walked into the foyer, "I was coming this way tonight so the captain asked me to drop off these files for you to review for the hearing on Wednesday." Marcus looked around and spotted the chess game set up in the middle of the library. 

"Thank you Detective." Sherlock took the files in hopes Marcus would leave now that he had discharged his duties. 

Joan saw Marcus looking at the chess set, "We're having a game night. ..."

Marcus nodded, "Chess. Andre loved the game. Me, not so much ..."

"Well, it's a form of chess. Watson and I have added some physicality to the game, so it's not completely sedentary."

Joan's eyes grew wide, fearing just how much detail Sherlock was going to share about the rules of their game. 

Sherlock continued, "Whenever a major piece is taken by ones opponent, we start the timer on our phones. The player who has lost the piece has five minutes to hide somewhere within the confines of the brownstone. Once the five minutes are up, the other player has twenty five minutes to find and tag the other party. If they cannot, the taken chess piece is put back in play at its starting position.

So this is what these two did for fun thought Marcus. He tried to look interested, "What happens if you do find the other person?"

Joan piped in loudly and quickly, moving to Sherlock's side, "There are penalties and tasks to be performed of course. We don't want to bore you with all the rules...."

Something was off about all this, but then when wasn't something off when Sherlock was involved, Marcus thought. "Okay. Well ... I'll leave you to enjoy your games ... "

"Oh I'm sure we will." Sherlock smiled, Joan blushed slightly.

As the door closed behind Marcus, Sherlock's hands were already on her teasing and coaxing her towards him. By the time Marcus started making his way up the street, they were naked and on the foyer floor. As Marcus gave the club address to the cabbie, Joan began the process of slowly testing Sherlock's stamina. 

 

They lay sprawled out on top of each other on the library sofa. Joan looked at the chess game set up across the room. "How long have we been playing this particular game?" she asked thoughtfully. 

Sherlock thought, "I think it'll be two months this coming Tuesday."

Joan smiled as she spotted a small glob of whipped heavy cream on Sherlock's cheek. She moved over him and very deliberately yet very delicately licked it off. 

"Hmm," she said as she made herself comfortable atop his chest, "I've heard of chess games that take lifetimes to finish." 

"Let's hope this is one of those games." Sherlock wrapped his arms tighter around her.


End file.
